Ronderella
by Ryo5
Summary: Ron's a poor farm boy working for his evil stepbrother...hilarity ensues! Is that a glass slipper I see? Nahhh... Please RR, I beg of you.


Disclaimer: All characters, etc belong to J.K. Rowling et al. Thanks for not suing.  
  


* * *

  
  
_A long long time ago, in land far, far away, well, a lot of things were happening. But our story beings with a young soot covered redhead who was busily sweeping the stables. You see, the hero of our story was not a dashing prince with cascades of dark curls and a smile so white it could burn out the most powerful corneas; rather it was Ronald Weasley. Ron was a tall, lanky, and covered in freckles of various sizes and shapes. He was not exactly the picture of a protagonist; in fact he was rather homely when compared to some of the others in the land._  
  
"Bugger off. Who are you anyway, and where are you, for that mater?"  
  
_I'm the narrator. I'm everywhere and I know everything, even what you're thinking. So you bugger off!  
  
_ Ron contorted his face in a mischievous smile.  
  
_Oh! I will certainly not, young man! To be thinking such things, it's dreadful really. Why I remember when fairy tales were sweet innocent stories of fantasy and adventure, but noooo, you had to go and ruin it, didn't you? Humph.  
  
_ "Get on with it."  
  
_ANYWAY, as I was saying, Ron was no prince charming, as he has proved himself. He worked for his evil brother, Percival, who would bore poor Ron to tears on a nightly basis. Percy considered himself to be of higher intelligence than most anyone in the kingdom, Ron not least of all. So in payment for giving his brother room and board, Percy made Ron do all the housework and cooking in their modest, frill-less penthouse castle in the English countryside. Percy demanded everything in his abode be completely function before form, and monotone to boot. If there was a shade of eggshell Percy didn't use, then it didn't exist.  
  
_ "That statement is a contradiction in itself."  
  
_Shut it, dung boy.  
  
_ "What in the name of Merlin is going on out here?" Percy stormed into the stable, hands firmly planted on hips.  
  
_You're in trouble noooow….  
  
_ Ron glared at the sky, only irritating Percy further.  
  
"Ron, you're a wizard for Merlin's sake. Use your wand."  
  
"Percy, I'll keep my wand tucked away if you don't mind."   
  
"Not that wand, Ron. Trust me, no one wants to see that. Your magic wand, twit. Ugg, clean this mess up. I don't know why we have horses; we don't ride them anywhere because we have brooms. Seems downright implausible to me."  
  
Both Percy and Ron looked at each other, saying nothing.  
  
"Anyway," started Percy, "get on that. And keep it down; I have a report for the Ministry report to finish."  
  
"Of course, your majesty." Ron huffed as Percy strutted away.  
  
_But despite Ron's well placed sarcasm, Percy was not royalty. Or he wasn't yet. Insert dramatic, foreboding music here. For in the very same kingdom lived a beautiful princess by the name of Lavender Brown. Marcus and Dahlia Brown, the king and queen of the land were determined to see their only daughter married off. The royal couple was growing older, despite the best anti-aging potions and facial peels tax money could buy. Marcus worried about his daughter's ability to effectively rule a kingdom on her own. She may have been the most beautiful girl in all the land, but she knew it too and tended to enjoy her share of mirror time and primping, which left little time for international wizard politics and the like.  
  
_ "If you looked like this, you would take pride in your appearance too, oh faceless one." Lavender huffed, brushing her long blond hair.  
  
_If I looked like you I'd do more than take pride in my body.  
  
_ "Oh, dirty boy. Grr, baby."  
  
_Later. Anyway, King Marcus sent out invitations to all the eligible bachelors in the land informing them that a grand ball was to be held where the princess would be selecting a husband for herself. Attendees were informed to bring a swimsuit and formal wear, but they were assured that the decision would not be based solely on looks, but on a combination of talent, poise and fitness.  
  
_ "Right. We just want to weed out the ugly guys so any future royals won't have buck teeth." Lavender grinned.  
  
_We couldn't have that, now could we?  
  
_ "Of course not. It would be dreadful."  
  
_Ron was woken quite rudely in the wee hours of the morning the next day by the hooting of a large tawny owl which quickly turned to sharp pecks to the temple when he didn't wake immediately.  
  
_ "Oh, bugger. I'm awake! Merlin, you would think a guy could get a few winks around this place, but noooo…" Ron grumbled sleepily. "What? What do you have that couldn't wait another half hour?"  
  
_He snatched the ornate envelope from the strings on the owl's leg, and it promptly took off, swatting Ron on the head as it left. Ron looked over the envelope carefully, noting the fancy red wax seal decorating the back.  
  
He headed down to the kitchen and began preparing breakfast for Percy and himself, tossing some stray toast over to Pig as she sat on the windowsill. Percy came down a while later, opening the Daily Prophet to the business section before starting in on a cup of tea, no sugar, and a slice of toast, no butter. Ron threw the envelope at him, explaining it had come early that morning. Percy raised and eyebrow at it and pushed his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose.  
  
He almost did a spit take when he read the in closed card, but unfortunately our story is not nearly that hilarious.  
  
_ "What's gotten in your britches, Perc?" asked Ron as he chewed on a slice of bacon.  
  
"The King and Queen are holding a ball for all eligible bachelors in the land to come and try to win the hand of the princess. Do you realize what this means? So long Ministry of Magic, I'm going straight to the top! The kind of power that position would bring…it's almost unfathomable. Why we could change international magical corporation forever. And the changes I could make at home…so many rules and regulations to be set…"  
  
"Don't wet yourself with glee, Perc, geeze. You're not a prince yet."  
  
"But I will be!" he laughed maniacally. "So we have to get out our dress robes and pull out the broom and get down there."  
  
"Ooooh no. I'm not going anywhere in that frilly nightmare you call a dress robe. No way, no how."  
  
"Well I'm not forcing you."  
  
"Good, cause I'm not going."  
  
"Fine."  
  
"Fine."  
  
_The night of the ball finally came, and Percy, clad full in stuffy gray dress robes, snatched up his Shooting Star and set off for the palace. Ron moped around the castle, alternating lighting and snuffing out candles with his wand to pass the time. Then, without warning, a loud series of pops went off in the room, and a hundred white mice scattered about. Two red headed twins appeared floating above him, both grinning goofily.  
  
_ "Bugger! You scared the living daylights outta me. Who are you?" Ron questioned, still clutching his chest from the shock.  
  
"We're your fairy god brothers."  
  
"No commenting on the fairy part."  
  
"It was in our contract; we had to."  
  
"But how are you flying?" asked Ron.  
  
"Magic. We decided to forego the wings."  
  
"What with already being called fairies and all."  
  
"Don't underestimate us though. We have powers."  
  
"Scary powers."  
  
"I won't. Why are you two here, then?" said Ron.  
  
"We have to get you to that ball."  
  
"Why? I don't want to go to one of those stuffy, boring palace functions anyway. I'd rather stay here."  
  
"And snuff candles? Not likely."  
  
"Let's go, dung boy."  
  
"Hey….have you been talking to that narrator fellow? He's nothing but trouble. Don't believe a word he says." huffed Ron.  
  
_Hey…  
  
_ "Ron, my boy, let's see. You're going to be quite the project, aren't you? Let's see your dress robes, boy."  
  
"No! I'm not going!"  
  
"They have bacon."  
  
"I'll get my robes."  
  
_A short while later, Ron appeared in the most hideous robes known to wizard kind, complete with moldy lace cuffs and stains from the last owner. The twins shook their heads at each other, and with a wave of wand, they transformed the robes into the most spankin' set of well tailored black robes ever, complete with white handkerchief and red rose boutiner. His shoes transformed from old, mud stained size thirteen work boots into slightly cleaner size thirteen work boots.  
  
_ "So how am I supposed to get to this gala event? All we have is a run down Comet from before the palace was even built."  
  
_Just then (as is par for such stories), Pig came to perch on Ron's shoulder, and the twins got an identical evil look in their eyes. They waved their wands, and suddenly Pig had disappeared, and a stunning new Firebolt was balanced precariously on Ron's shoulder.  
  
_ "Holy cow, a Firebolt!"  
  
"Yes, but only until midnight, Ron." warned one of the twins.  
  
"After that, everything will turn back to normal."  
  
"Alright, so steal all the bacon I can before then and get back here by midnight. Got it."  
  
"Don't forget, Ron."  
  
With that, Ron mounted his shinny new Firebolt and kicked off, headed towards the grand palace.  
  
_When he arrived, Ron left his new Firebolt in the entrance hall as he marveled at the palace's grandeur. The ceilings were higher than Ron had ever seen, and every free inch was covered in golden vines and leaves that clung to the ivory plaster and dark wooden trim. Ron's mouth hung open, and some sort of unearthly groan came forth from his throat. Ron was smooth indeed. He followed the red carpet through the hall and found himself facing a grand ballroom, full to the brim with young men sporting their best. He found Percy in the corner, checking his teeth for any sort of food particles which might impede his advancement.  
  
A blast of trumpets announced the entrance of the royal family, and in walked the King and Queen bedecked with jewels and crowns, and slightly behind them was Princess Lavender. She wore gorgeous silk robes of a pale purple, and her hair was pulled loosely up. A sliver tiara rested softly on top of a head of blonde curls, and she gave a small wary smile.  
  
The crowd of young men broke into applause and even a few whistles, much to King Marcus' chagrin. He shooed Lavender away into the crowd, and immediately she was swamped by a group of admirers, all asking for dances and some for more inappropriate things. Percy, Ron noticed, was among the first to reach the princess, and he was indeed the first to lead her to the dance floor for a spotlight waltz. Ron snorted to himself and headed towards the buffet.  
  
Time passed, but Ron didn't budge from his space at the long linen-covered buffet table, his goblet of pumpkin juice placed next to a plate of bacon rolls for convenience.  
  
Lavender, having had her fill of roaming hands and men making conversations with her chest, decided to grab a glass of wine before braving the hordes again. She needed it, afterall. As she approached the buffet table, something caught her eye. A young man in a fabulous set of black dress robes was leaning over the table, apparently too cultured to mix with the like of the men filling the rest of the hall. And his backside wasn't half-bad either.  
  
Lavender walked up slowly, the boy too interested in his own project to notice anything happening around him. She bit her lip and tapped the red haired stranger on the shoulder. Ron spun around quickly, a bacon roll half hanging out of his mouth, his eyes wide, and his pockets bulging strangely.  
  
_ "What? They said the food was free. And I'm here, just having some free finger food. There's nothing wrong with that. Oh man, just please don't throw me out. It's a long flight and I'll have to use the bathroom before I go." He said, a bit panicky.  
  
Lavender laughed. He was kidding, of course, and the way his blush clashed with his hair and his freckles was oddly amusing. Extending a hand palm down, Lavender introduced herself.  
  
"Lavender Brown. Charmed, I'm sure."  
  
"P-princess Lavender Brown?" he sputtered, swallowing the last bit of bacon. He wiped his hand on his robe and took hers, kissing her knuckles and leaving a small greasy ring on her hand. "Tiara should have been a tip off. Ronald, your highness."  
  
"Delighted, Ronald. Now, seeing as how this is my ball and my father may have to have you executed if you upset me on my big night, I'd like to ask you to dance. I'd be careful of my answer if I was you."  
  
_Ron stood for a moment, utterly confused. Girls didn't talk to Ron. In fact, just last week the girl who slopped the pigs and had a bit of a mustache turned him down for dinner but somehow managed to get Ron to pay for a lip wax.  
  
Ron nodded in silence and offered his arm to Lavender, who took it with a smug smile. They made their way to the floor and the band struck up, playing a long slow song. Though they came out with a few bruised shins and with Lavender's shoes full of Ron's footprints, they came out, and that was enough for Ron. His growth spurt as a teenager had left him lanky and awkward, and it was something he had never quite grown out of.  
  
_ "Umm, thanks. That was…fun." He said, running his hand down the back of his head. "I guess I'll catch you later, Princess?"  
  
"Lavender. You know, Ronald…Ron, it's such a lovely night. Why don't we go for a walk out in the gardens? Mother makes sure they're well kept, and they really are lovely in the spring." She tugged on his arm and wound a path through the parting crowd, whispers following them all the way. Before Ron knew quite what to say they were in a magnificent formal English garden, night flowers blooming under the yellow moonlight. Lavender sat down on the edge of a three-tiered fountain and patted a seat next to her. Ron sat down tentatively, looking down at his own hands.  
  
"So, Ron, do you like the palace? Are you having a good time tonight? With me?"  
  
_Ron looked at Lavender with a puzzled expression. Here he was, in his enchanted dress robes, with a hooting Firebolt in the entrance hall, with a princess. And not just any princess, but a gorgeous one who wasn't attempting to hex him into next week. Something was very strange.  
  
_ "Great time. Ball is lovely. Bacon rolls are good." He said, nervously reaching into his pocket and popping one of the stolen goods into his mouth.  
  
"You know, Ron, they say that a kiss in front of this fountain brings good luck." She said coyly, running her finger along her collarbone. "I've never tried it, but who knows…might be worth the risk." _She looked over at him, his mouth hanging open (and still slightly full of bacon roll), and she grinned wolfishly. She moved deftly and positioned herself closer to him, leaning in for a kiss with eyes fluttering closed. Ron leaned back, looking at her with something akin to horror. Just as he could not lean back any farther, and just as her lips touched his, the bell of the palace clock tower began to echo across the gardens. Midnight.  
  
Ron jumped from his seat, tearing up the stairs towards the front of the palace.  
  
_ "Sorry Lavender! Got to run! Past my bedtime, you know." He said with a fake yawn and stretch. "Got to get up bright and early to…" shovel dung didn't quite leave the impression that he'd have liked. "To do things. Very nice meeting you. See you around the market, I guess." He said, dashing into the ballroom.  
  
"Wait! Ron! Where are you going, you giant prat!" she called, standing in front of the fountain. _Her heels were not meant from running, and far be it from her to ruin a perfectly good pair of Prada pumps running and getting sweaty. Not that she sweated, persay; she glowed. She was a princess afterall.  
  
_ _No one ever turned down Lavender Brown before. What did this guy have that would make him think that he could do better than a princess? And a busty princess at that? Cat and mouse indeed. This could be fun.  
  
Ron darted through a sea of bewildered onlookers, snatched up his Firebolt and kicked off quicker than he could say "Sweet Mother of Merlin." Without so much as a glance backwards, he took off for home, feeling his robes grow smaller and break into holes as time ticked by. Mud began to cake back on his boots, and his broom slowly began to grow feathers.  
  
_ "Damn it! Hold on Pig, we're almost there!" Ron kicked the Firebolt to full speed. Just as the castle came into view, Pig reappeared, and Ron plummeted out of the sky, landing with a muffled "oof!" on the ground.  
  
_The next morning Ron awoke to a sharp jab of Percy's foot in his ribs, and a mouthful of grass.  
  
_ "Whuudya do that for?" Ron yawned, rubbing his eyes with the back of his fist and staring up at a figure silhouetted by the mid day sun.  
  
"You slept on the bloody lawn. Now come to the door. There's someone here looking for you, you wanker."  
  
_People rarely came to visit Ron, save to collect money by way of punching him in the gut until he gave it up. So Ron didn't bother changing his clothes or brushing his hair, figuring he'd just end up on the floor anyway.  
  
But when he looked out onto the front step he saw not a pair of thugs, but rather the princess, donning her riding wear for the carriage ride over from the palace.  
  
_ "Quite dusty out here, isn't it?" she said casually. Ron's jaw dropped yet again. He was bound to hurt himself that way.  
  
"Princess! What are you doing here…I didn't tell you my last name. And I didn't drop anything, did I?" he asked looking around for his boots and finding his robes still on.  
  
"I have a tiara to give away my identity, you have your hair."  
  
Ron blushed to a deep scarlet.  
  
"So, what can I do for you, Princess?"  
  
"Lavender. May I come in?"  
  
"Of course." Ron stuttered, opening the door and leading her past Percy's narrowed eyes.  
  
"Ron, here's the deal. I have to find a guy, and quick, lest my father flip out and do something drastic, like take away my ponies. Merlin forbid. So here's what I'm proposing. You come back with me, marry me, become royalty, live in the palace, never have to worry about anything ever again."  
  
"What? What's the catch?" he said, nearly walking into a wall as she spoke.  
  
"Easy. You're a figurehead. Look Ron, you're nice enough, but you're not the brightest. No offense."  
  
"None taken."  
  
"But father won't trust me to run the kindgom on my own. So you show up, smile, and say what I tell you in meetings and pass laws that I make and play the good king and everyone will adore you, alright?"  
  
"But why me?"  
  
"Because you'll let me. And besides, I get a rough, outdoorsy farm boy lover out of the deal. All my friends say they're the best, and if they have them, then I want one. I'm a princess, afterall. So this works for both of us. Deal?"  
  
"Deal."  
  
They stuck out their hands and shook on it.  
  
_And that is how kingdoms are built. Not on fairy tales, but on deals. Occasionally with benefits.  
  
_


End file.
